The Girl In The Mirror
by Blackrose Malfoy
Summary: When Pansy is unable to deal with the pressures of her life she develops a split personality. The problem with that? Pansy hates her. The girl in the mirror has been living through her for months but today Pansy is retaking control. Written for TamariChan's But He's There! A Pansy Competition and Alarice Tey's Sad and Depressing One-shot Challenge. Warning: Non-graphic Suicide.


**Author's Note: Hello all! :) ********This was written for: TamariChan's But He's There! A Pansy Competition and Alarice Tey's The Sad and Depressing One-shot Challenge (Option 4. No Dialogue and Option 6. Mental Illness).**

******I feel that I should really start off by saying that this isn't a typical Pansy story, or at least I hope it isn't anyway. I really wanted to do something with her character that I had never seen done before so if this seems a little different that would be why. :) Also, I feel that anything out of character can be justified by the fact that in this fic she has developed a sort of split personality. That being said, I hope that you enjoy the different take on her and thank you for taking the time to read this fic. Please don't forget to review once you're finished. :) Happy reading everyone! :)  
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**********Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything in the Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros (and maybe some others I forgot to mention). If this information is not correct I apologize. (I looked it up to make sure this disclaimer was accurate and that's what I found.) I make no money from this. This (writing fanfiction for the best book series of all time!) is just something I do for fun. (So please don't sue me!)**

The Girl In The Mirror

I stare at the girl in the mirror front of me. She looks like me, but she's not me. She has the same face, the same eyes, the same smile; but they're no longer mine. They haven't been mine for months. She is a lie. She is everything I'm not but everything I am forced to be. When I step outside my blissful seclusion she is what the world sees. The world never sees the real me, not anymore.

I glance down at the revolting Mark scarring my left arm and I quickly look away in disgust. Every time I see it I have to fight back the urge to wretch. I detest being a Death Eater, but she doesn't. She wears her Mark proudly and never questions or rejects the Dark Lord whom she has pledged her life to. She is a willing servant, happy to oblige any request no matter how horrific that request may be. She is a torturer, she is a murderer, and she is an oblivious pawn at the disposal of a mad man. I see this but she doesn't and she never will. After all, if she did she'd become like me: hollow, empty, nothing. I am nothing anymore.

I brush her hair and paint her face with makeup the same way I do every morning. She doesn't know it yet but this day is different. I dress her in my favorite outfit, not her favorite but my favorite. Her favorite outfit is the Death Eater robes she wears when she serves her Lord; my favorite is a simple green dress that reminds me of days long past. It reminds me of days filled with innocence and freedom. I wish I could stay in those memories forever but I know I cannot. The real world always comes to call on her again and she takes us away, back to the place that I hate with every fiber of my being.

I pause for a moment to look at the reflection in the mirror. I have retaken control of the eyes. Once again there is depth there. You can actually see the remnants of a soul behind them; a soul that I was sure I would never see on her face, my face, ever again. I smile at that discovery. The smile is still hers but it will be mine again soon enough.

I take one last look around the room that has been mine since the day of my birth. I won't miss this place, she will but I won't. To her it has been paradise but to me it has been a prison; ever since the day I had first learned to think for myself it had been a prison. So after I grab the few things I will be taking with me and lock the door behind me for the last time I notice her apprehension grow. She's starting to get nervous about where I am taking us today. Good. She should be.

I make my way out to the gardens that reside behind the building I am forced to call home. This has always been my favorite place. It is the place I go to whenever I need an escape from the hell I am trapped in.

I bid good morning to the flowers, the grass, and the trees as I do every time I come here. I feel like they know me because I have been coming here for years. I'm sure that if anyone were ever to accompany me I would seem quite crazy. Maybe I am crazy. But even if I am I do not care. At least that crazy person would still be a part of me and not a part of her. If a crazy person is all I am left with then I will gladly take what I can get.

The girl who pretends to be me still controls the face but it doesn't matter in this place. The things here can see through her lies. They've always been able to.

I make my way over to sit beside the small brook that runs through the gardens and allow the nature surrounding me to calm my nerves. She is growing wearier by the minute and even though I cannot see the face I wear I know it reflects her worry. Too bad, I don't care how she feels.

I know that I don't have much time. They'll be calling on her soon, they always do. I take control of the smile and it twists into a vengeful smirk. She now knows what I am going to do and she is horrified. She pleads with me to change my mind but I shut her out. I have listened to her and lived behind her mask long enough.

So without remorse I pick up the slender silver dagger and slash my wrists. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. She winces from the pain but I do not care. I lie down on the soft, cool grass and let my mind wander. I wonder if anyone will miss me. I know that my parents won't, that is a fact I had come to accept long before this moment. The Dark Lord will but not for any reasons I care about. He will miss one of his most trusted minions but he will never miss me specifically. After all, I am nothing and who would miss nothing?

In the distance I can hear them coming, looking for her, but I know they will be too late to save her. I can already feel the life slipping away from me and I know that I am taking her with me. She's given up trying to protest now; she knows it is too late for anything to be done to save her.

I suppose in a way it is ironic that in my final act I have managed to do one bit of good in this world after the girl whom lived through me for so long had done so much evil. She did not deserve to live because the girl in the mirror was the devil. I did not deserve to live because the girl in the mirror was me.


End file.
